Chapter Two

 

Angel couldn’t relax.  Ever since he had jumped in his car following Cordy’s impassioned alarm, he couldn’t make himself calm down.  Just one word—Spike—was enough to make him grind his teeth and thump again and again on the little dining table he sat at.  The second name—Giles—had him nearly jumping for safety every time the man came near him on his continual laps around the room.  He may have his soul back and still be trying to fight evil like the rest of the Scoobies, but he knew he was barely tolerated by the man whose house he now found himself situated.

 

“Are you quite certain Cordelia saw Spike?” Giles asked for about the fourth time, cleaning his glasses again with a near ferocity of alarm and concern.

 

“He’s rather hard to mistake. You know, no one else quite wears white like Spike!” 

 

Angel raised an eyebrow and Giles almost recoiled in disgust until he checked himself.

 

“I’m not trying to be funny Giles, I am just as worried as you are.”

 

“Right then, tell me again exactly what Cordelia told you.”  His glare made Angel feel uncomfortable and he was about to start squirming in his seat until he realised he was over two hundred years old and shouldn’t feel like a child.  He sighed and again tried to make sense of Cordy’s message.

 

“She just said to get to Sunnydale and that Buffy would need help with Spike.  I didn’t wait for anything else. I just took off.  I really didn’t want to waste time when it has to do with Spike.”

 

“Yes, well, be that as it may, we have had dealings with him in the not so distant past, and we haven’t needed your help then- or rather Buffy didn’t- so I wonder why this time is any different.” Giles  resentfully continued pacing and rubbing his glasses as he pondered.

 

“So Cordelia gets visions from the Powers that Be?  How incredibly fascinating.  Couldn’t have happened to a lovelier girl,” he sarcastically shot over his shoulder.

 

Giles was putting up a brave front but Angel could tell that he was worried out of his mind.  His fingers started drumming a rhythm on the tabletop as he thought of his options.

 

“Giles, where might Buffy be patrolling right now,” Angel asked. He jumped, alarmed at the explosion of sound that answered his question.

 

“I don’t bloody know, she wanders, nothing the same each night.  She could be in Timbuktu for all we know.”  He raised his finger to point at Angel and start another burst of fury mixed with fear when there was a loud thump at his door.  With something akin to dread he approached it, Angel following so closely behind him that he nearly reeled away in pure revulsion.  He touched it once then opened it with a rather unsuspected force and nearly collapsed back gratefully on Angel when he saw it was Buffy.  Angel for his part nearly had eyes bugging out of his head when he came face to face with Buffy, the girl he had left behind, and the back end view of what was unmistakably combat boots and a long black leather duster.

 

Buffy didn’t seem to notice him as she asked Giles to invite her in: her voice hard in her determination.  Giles just stood in front of his charge with his mouth hanging open rather indelicately.  He hadn’t seemed to have made the connection between the new arrival and their earlier conversation, but Angel sure the hell had.

 

“What are you doing Buffy?  You can’t invite Spike in here.”

 

Buffy raised surprised eyes to Angel.

 

“Wow,” she almost breathed.  “I guess this is a good old family reunion.  Giles where’s the food?”

 

Giles quickly snapped to it, and his eyes widened as he finally worked out what was going on.

 

“Buffy, is that Spike?”

 

“Yeah, and guess what, he’s heavy.  So can you invite us in already.”

 

“Us?” Giles jumped back in fright and reached for a cross and stake.

 

Buffy snorted.

 

“Watcher man,” she started sarcastically, and then rolled her eyes.  Great, she thought, first I start with the ‘bloody’s’ like Spike and now I’m channelling Xander.

 

“You saw me two hours ago before I went on patrol. I haven’t had time to be turned.   I may be good but I’m not that good.  I just meant us as in I’m carrying Spike us.”

 

Giles stood completely flabbergasted.

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

“Giles, I don’t want to argue about this.  There is something wrong with him.  I found him passed out under a tree and he looks really sick.”

 

That got Angel’s attention.

 

“Vampires don’t get sick,” he said arrogantly.

 

Buffy narrowed her eyes angrily.  “They do if they get poisoned,” the barb close enough to make him flinch and he stepped away.

 

“Giles,” she turned back to him.  “Both Angel and I will stake him should it be necessary, but I really don’t think he could raise an eyelid right now, let alone a fang.” Her voice grew steadily louder as her impatience grew.  “He’s heavy Giles, let us in.”

 

For some really odd reason Buffy sounded like she was going to burst into tears.

 

“If you don’t let us in I’m taking him to my house and he already has an invite there.”  Her voice cracked with emotion and Angel stared at her in shock.  He couldn’t believe that she was fighting so hard for his Childe.  His eyes narrowed.

 

“What’s going on Buffy?” he ground out and was met with a furious glare.  She was about to offer a heated reply when she felt, as well as heard, Spike groan.

 

“Buffy,” his voice worn, exhausted.  “Put me down, luv.  It hurts.”  The last was whispered as he again lost consciousness.

 

“Giles,” Buffy and Angel called together and his eyes snapped again to the dead looking undead that hung over Buffy’s shoulder.  He rubbed his forehead absently as he stepped aside.

 

“Come in Spike.” He waved his arm in a flourish of welcome.  “You are so very welcome to come in and kill me in my sleep,” he mumbled as he walked further into his home.

 

“You can lay him on the sofa Buffy,” he called as he watched her struggle through the doorway.  Angel went to help her but stepped back at her angry glare.

 

“Don’t interfere Angel,” she nearly spat as she finally upended her load, wincing as Spike’s head bumped the arm of the sofa.

 

The three stood back examining the now black leathery contents of the sofa with varying expressions of fear, interest and care.  Angel could see Buffy flushing while she looked at Spike and a sharp slice of what he thought was pain hit him somewhere in his chest.  He shook his head in confusion and turned back to the other vampire.  His childe, his… hang on…

 

“Buffy,” he turned to her, confusion running rampant over his suddenly very brooding brow. Anger and jealousy suddenly barrelled out of control and he huffed at her like a child.  “Just when exactly did Spike get his soul?”